At the Graveyard in the Woods
by LeeMarieJack
Summary: While attending to a simple salt n' burn at a country graveyard, Wincest develops and the ghost becomes a voyeur, WINCEST people, you have been warned. If it offends you DON'T READ IT, a simple solution.


Supernatural characters are the property of Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me.

This story is a ghost hunt with **Wincest** added. I'm warning you now. If you don't like** Wincest**, don't read this. If you go on and read it, don't scream at me. I warned you.

**At the Graveyard in the Woods**

_Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,_

_Sunlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee._

_Sounds of the real world, heard in the day,_

_Lull'd by the moonlight, have all passed away_

Beautiful Dreamer

By Stephan Foster, 1826-1864

(You've all heard the song; did you know it was written to a dead woman?)

The Pennsylvania woods grew thickly along the interstate, arcing over the road creating a green tunnel in the misting rain. The green was achingly bright, acid green, and harsh on Western eyes used to the muted shades of desert landscapes.

"A temperate rain forest," Dean muttered, "what does that even mean?

"It means if it doesn't rain for three days it's a drought." Sam replied. "Real different isn't it? It's a drought in California if it doesn't rain for six months."

"Here, the exit is coming up. Get off."

They had been riding the backbone of the Appalachian Mountains for days; tracking up through West Virginia, heading for the Monongahela River valley in Western Pennsylvania.

In the West the bones of the earth were exposed in naked glory, striped formations displaying the colors of sedimentary and volcanic layers of the earth's history, revealing mind numbing pageants of times past.

Here all the world was covered with vegetation, alive and eating at the earth. The bones of the earth were worn down, crumbling with erosion and root growth. Here new life triumphed and the mountains were wearing away.

They traveled now on the back roads, the trees even more overbearing, attacking the road on either side, eating at the edges of the blacktop, creating tunnels of leaves that hid the sky. So green and dark and wet, it was like swimming in the ocean. Each turn they took led to narrower and narrower roads as they followed the course of a stream snaking through the landscape.

"Here we go," said Sam. "There's the bridge, cross over."

Dean glanced at the low slung bridge over the stream. It looked sturdy enough with metal I-beams for sides and a floor made of thick planks so he trusted the Impala to it. On the other side though, his heart leapt into his throat. Now they were on a red dog road, tunneling truly through a forest, barely scraping through on either side. Here the trees were definitely winning. This was pretty much a car path, not a road.

"There's the spring," Sam said. "Stop for a minute."

Dean pulled off on a little scooped out siding in the mud. A natural spring leaked out of the hillside, creating its' own little waterway that ambled across the road, having worn a path to the bigger stream over the years.

People from the surrounding area knew about this hidden spring and brought their bottles and jugs here to be filled. To make the process easier someone had pounded a galvanized pipe into the hillside. The clear spring water ran out the end.

Sam filled an empty water bottle from the back seat and drank. He re-filled it and passed it to Dean then stood up to scan the surrounding woods.

Dean cautiously sipped at the bottle and was surprised at how good it tasted. It was like he had never drunk real water before. The flavor was crisp and cool and spoke of the secret places of the earth. He drank it all and stooped to refill the bottle then looked in the car for more empties.

"Five hundred yards North West of the spring," Sam muttered. He started walking up the little road. After the spring the road deteriorated rapidly into no more than a path. No one had reason to drive past the spring.

He was looking for a country graveyard, rumored to be "back behind the spring". Their attention had been attracted by internet "real ghost" stories of a weeping child, or teenager who haunted the spring, the bridge and even the asphalt road. There had been several crashes caused by the appearance of the ghost on the road. The locals knew about it but the occasional visitor was shocked.

A local was supposed to have been chased by the ghost and had jumped off the bridge to get away. Unfortunately the usually mild mannered stream had been in flood and the jumper had drowned.

Sam came back to the car where Dean had created a motley collection of six bottles filled with the spring water. Sam laughed at the fruits of Dean's labor.

"I think I found the graves," Sam told his brother. "Come on and help me carry the stuff. You're not going to want to move the car any closer once you see this road." They retrieved shovels, kerosene, salt and salt loaded shotguns from the trunk and set off.

Not far off the road Dean saw a white stone obelisk pointing at the sky. Blackberry bushes, full of thorny vines, lined the road and separated him from his goal. "Why is this here?"

Sam replied, "Notice that there are fewer trees along here. You can actually see the sky. This land was once cleared and was part of someone's farm. In past centuries there was no problem with burying your relatives in some out of the way spot out back. Some of these country graveyards could be fairly large, depending on the size of your family."

Sam pushed through the vines up the road a bit from Dean. "Come through here. It's not so thick"

When Dean joined him, Sam was eating blackberries. Sam pushed a berry between his brother's lips and another new taste sensation entranced Dean. The berries were warm from the sun and plump and full of sweet juice.

"You got more of those?" Dean asked, putting his hand out.

"Look around you, lazy. You're standing in a berry patch." Sam laughed.

Dean started picking berries and stuffing them in his mouth so fast that the juice ran down the corner of his lips and trickled down his chin.

Sam laughed at his brother, grabbed the back of his head and pulled Dean to him. He then cleaned his brother's face with his tongue and kissed Dean's berry stained lips. Still laughing he pushed his way through the brush and Dean followed in the path cleared by the larger man.

They arrived at an ancient wrought iron fence which at one time had outlined the graveyard. Now it was rusted and pieces of it had fallen. Inside they could see the stone monument they had spotted from the road. It was a four sided gravestone; carving on the sides memorialized the names of the dead. It was topped with a six foot tall tapering cap that pointed into the sky, perhaps erected to show the way to heaven. This central monument was surrounded by various single grave sites.

"How are we going to find our ghost?"

Dean answered "I think we should circle the graveyard with salt and wait for the ghost to appear. If It can't get out we should know which grave it's associated with."

With a grunted "Good plan" Sam took a shovel and started scraping a narrow path outside the fence.

"Hey," he yelled at Dean, "get your butt in gear and do some of the work, jerk. I know other ways I would prefer to work up a sweat."

As they worked their way around opposite sides, Dean stopped at a break in the fence.

"Sam, I know why this ghost has become active. Look at this."

A section of the wrought iron fence was outright missing. Dean looked around and saw it tossed to the side, a few feet away." Someone broke this fence. Those old time farmers knew the value of iron around a graveyard. Some idiot destroyed the protection."

"Just keep going," Sam replied. "We can't rebuild the fence now. There are some significant gaps on this side too but I think they're rust gaps. The iron's in the soil but I don't know if rust has the same effect on ghosts. Let's get the salt down for tonight."

"After we get rid of the active ghost tonight," Dean went on "maybe we should use the busted up fence to drive a spike into each grave. That way everyone will be pinned into their resting place. No more going on walk-about."

Sam finished his side and started to lay the salt ring down. "Sounds like a plan."

They finished the ring and Sam used the flat side of his shovel to beat down the deep soft grass into a type of nest. When he was satisfied he took off his over shirt and his T-shirt and threw them on the ground. He lay down in the soft nest on his stomach and let the lowering sun beat on his shoulders.

Dean eyed his brother. It looked like Sam was nodding off, all warm and comfortable. An insect chorus kept time in the sunlit field, a drowsy hum in the background.

"Sam," Dean called. "I'm going to pull the Impala up . I'll park her on the little road. I think it'll be alright and I'd rather have her closer"

Sam waved a casual hand. "Go to it."

Coming back after his self-imposed task, Dean wiped the sweat from his face. Sam had dozed off and Dean could hear his almost snores . Thinking that Sam looked really comfortable and that it was still an hour to sunset, he decided to join his brother and maybe have some fun.

Stripping off he threw his shirts down next to Sam but put the rest of his clothes and his boots off to the side. Naked he lay down in the grass on the shirts, propping himself up on an elbow and then began to trail his fingers down Sam's sun-warmed skin.

One of Sam's shoulders flinched at the soft touch of Deans' fingers, as if he was chasing a fly away. Dean moved to the other shoulder blade and got another flinch for his trouble. He saw a blue-green eye open and the color reminded him of the ocean's deep waters.

"What 'cha doin', Dean " Sam's sleepy voice was muffled.

"You know what I'm doin'. You know what I want. " Dean leaned over and pulled an ear lobe into his mouth, investigating his prize with a flicking tongue.

"Oh, really?" Sam flung out a long arm and pulled his brother closer. "And whatever could that be?"

He pulled his ear from Dean's mouth and, in turn, nuzzled his brother's neck. Licking and nipping Sam moved up from Dean's neck to his face to his lips and started a long hungry kiss. Sam rose up and pulled Dean even closer, pushing a knee between Dean's legs and running his hand across his chest and abdomen

"Sam," Dean gasped "You're over dressed for this party." He pushed at Sam's belt and Sam stood up. Removing his boots and then his jeans, Sam stood in the glow of the now setting sun, a perfect outline. He knelt down between Deans' legs and returned to nipping and sucking, completely dominating his brother. Sam wrapped his arms around his lover and pulled him closer. Dean groaned.

Dean wrapped his legs around Sam's waist and pulled up, trying to get friction for his cock against his lover's abs. He felt Sam's dick drop between his legs and rub against his perineum.

"We got any lube close?" Sam whispered in his ear.

"In my jacket pocket," Dean smirked. "You know me, always prepared."

Sam reached for the jacket and a minute later Dean felt a wet hand first on his ass and then running up and down his cleft and, finally, circling his opening an d sliding in, getting him ready.

"Damn, that was fast," Dean muttered.

Sam snorted, "Well, you know me, always ready."

Sam wrapped his hands around Dean's shoulders and pushed his way in, no hesitation. Dean arced his back and whimpered, but said nothing, simply submitted his body to his brother's pleasure.

Sam pounded away but whispered "I won't stop til I feel you come."

They rutted in the grass as the sun set and finally Dean could hold out no longer. He came with a scream muted by Sam's chest and felt Sam's response to his involuntarily tighten channel.

Sam rolled off with a pull and they both lay back staring up at the early evening stars. After a few minutes to catch his breath, Sam rose to his knees and pulled Dean up and into his arms. They kissed slow and easy, passion fulfilled.

They were interrupted by a shrill scream and, looking to the side, they saw that they had found their ghost.

"Look, Dean," Sam whispered. "We put on a show for a ghostly voyeur."

The ghost stood at the edge of the salt circle, wringing its hands and crying. It interrupted its tears every few seconds with that shrill scream. They could see it had once been a teenaged girl, her dress long and tattered and deep, dark weeping holes where her eyes should have been.

"Wonder why she's here," Dean said.

Sam replied, "Whoever broke that fence down must have disturbed her in some way. Maybe they stole the headstone. People do that. Now she's awake and doesn't recognize this world. She's alone and lost and woke up tonight to find two dudes fucking in her field. She's probably really confused now."

Dean stood and slid his feet in his boots. "Come on, let's put her to bed. First time I've hunted naked."

Sam laughed and swatted Dean's ass. "Put some clothes on. We're going to be digging and you're going to get dirt in your crotch. Keep it clean. I might want to use it later."

They got dressed and, with a shot gun blast to dissipate their peeping Tom, stepped over the salt line to do a standard salt n' burn.

.


End file.
